


All She Wanted Was A Friend

by ArtemisWalsh



Category: Dishonored (Video Game)
Genre: Gen, Rat Queen, Rats
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-08-31
Updated: 2015-09-13
Packaged: 2018-04-18 08:50:27
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 3
Words: 1,653
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4699811
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ArtemisWalsh/pseuds/ArtemisWalsh
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Such a lonely girl. She has learned how to care for herself in this city. But as it tears itself apart, she wonders how much longer she can survive.</p><p>If only she had a friend, a companion, a protector. </p><p>If only she didn't have to fear the rats.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Prologue

_Once, an army cut a thousand throats in my name. They devoured the flesh, painted runes with the blood, and carved totems into the bones. Nothing was wasted._

_I met with these people, casting myself freely into the mortal world in the form of a great eagle to appear in front of thousands. Those were better days, when chaos was cast forward like waves upon a shore, pulling away sand and throwing new grains on the beach. As the world aged, the minds of men grew, and they began to capture nature in their eager hands. The ox, the wolf, the eagle, even the fish. I watched, with all the interest of a father whose child was learning something new._

_But then these men turned their eyes to the deep sea, and the creatures that swam where the water had never seen sun. They drove the great fish to extinction, and drove the peoples of the sea into the most hidden bays and gulfs. Eventually, they came for the whales. And for the first time since the stars burned the sky black, I was angry._

_For ninety days, I did not speak to them. In my arrogance, I believed that my mere absence would drive them to collapse. But instead, they grew bold. They believed that my absence meant that I was no longer there, and that they could seize the world for themselves. And that was when I realized. All this time, they had hated me, and feared me. They had believed I could be driven out of this world. That brought a smile to me, for I knew how to bring them to their knees._

_I created the rats. Small, multiplying, hard to see, and harder to kill. They carried deadly plague, and a swarm of them could kill a man in seconds. Within months, they had overtaken cities. Within two years, the population of Pandyssia was one hundredth its previous size. It was only then that man saw his foolishness. The survivors dropped to their knees in sorrow and prayer. They believed that by offering themselves to me, they could be spared. But what they did not realize was that I did not care about worship, or praise._

_I only sought chaos._

_And so it was that for thousands of years the peoples of Pandyssia would know neither peace nor progress. As the Isles grew, small jagged rocks cut into the ocean as they were, the once-great Pandyssia faded and crumbled away from memory. The rats stayed, and flourished. They ate what they could find, and the jungles of the continent had rich pickings. But time still turned, and slowly ate all it touched. For a time, it seemed that eventually they would die out with age, as many creatures had before them._

_Until..._


	2. Humbleness

Cecelia. Her name was Cecelia. It was her grandmother's, given to her by her father. He took the name with him when he left Serkonos, pledging to grant it to his first daughter.

Cecelia's father was not often in her childhood. That was not to say he was never there, or that he did not make the most of what little time he did have, but the working man must always work in this city. Never a moment to stop, never a moment to breathe. Dunwall worked him until he lost an eye to factory machinery. When he was home, he tended to Cecelia with all of the patience and wit that ran in his Serkonan blood. Her mother found work at the Boyle estate. Lord Boyle took a liking to her, and she survived Waverly Boyle's episodes of paranoia and fear.

As soon as she was old enough, her parents sent her off to find work. While employers would never dare hire a woman, the gangs had no qualms, as long as said woman was quick and quiet. Small and silent, like a mouse, the girl was perfect for hiding and sneaking. A man named Crowley taught her how to judge enemy's eyes, how to cross a room unheard, and how to hide contraband in the tiniest of places. She even gained a name among the gang members who she ran messages to: The Red Rat. When she brought the coin home, she told her parents she was working at a whale oil refinery. 

Soon, however, she was able to tell them a better story. She had been laying low in an abandoned apartment in the Old Port district, one that the gang was using as a safehouse. The door was kicked in, and City Watch began flooding the rooms and hallways. Cecelia watched as the proud protectors of Dunwall shot her friends in front of her. She only just managed to escape through a window, and down a fire escape. All the way down, panic filled Cecelia. What if they caught her? Would they kill her on sight? Lock her up? Have their way with her? Fear rushing her along, she ran across the street into the local bar. When she saw a man in a uniform, Cecelia almost fainted from shock. But thank the stars that she kept her head on, for it happened that the man had just purchased the bar, and was considering where to find new workers. He asked her for a job, and she accepted on the spot, between desperate grasps for her breath. 

It was a shift, for her. To go from scurrying across the city, relaying messages, collecting and setting dead drops, to sweeping floors and making beds. No longer would she have to slide through small grates into the sewers, or hide in closets to avoid the Watch. Now, she was serving them food and whiskey. Though tempted as she was to slip some poison in a drink or too, as payback. The owner of the Hound Pits Pub was Admiral Farley Havelock, a distinguished navy officer who He was a just man, disciplined, but fair. He lacked the brutality and callousness that came with many of the City Watch officers, nor did he have the apathy and pride of the nobility. However, there was something about him that still scared Cecelia. He seemed utterly methodical, and made no effort to hide his discipline.

Still, Cecelia found a home in the Hound Pits. She had few possessions, and so took up little space in the servant’s quarters. The bartender was a former Navy man, gruff and hardened. His skin was stone and his teeth were grinding fragments. The other servants were like her: poor men and women who were destined to the dirty work. After a few months of working, Admiral Havelock walked right past her without even acknowledging her or saying her name. How sad, then, that she should be forgotten even in her refuge. But now, she had a safe place. She wrote to her mother and father every week, telling them about the people who came through the doors, and reassuring them that she was fine. It was hard work, but someone had to do it. And she always had the same bed, and a safe space. Her days of crime were behind her.

Her days of hardship were not.

 

 


	3. Decay

Cecelia heard about it, through word of mouth, long before she witnessed it. On a quiet day in the pub, two City Watch officers were discussing a sickness that was tearing through the slums. They kept mentioning that there were rats everywhere. Come to think of it, Cecelia had seen more rats in the Old Port District too.

As the weeks went on, the rats grew and grew. Thousands of people began to die in the poor areas, and the illness began to spread to higher areas. Officials had given the sickness a name: The Rat Plague.

The name, more than anything, scared Cecelia. Rats had always been a part of her life. In her childhood, she had eaten rats occasionally, when there was just not enough to feed her parents and her. In her days of crime, they were everywhere: The streets, the bars, the hideaways, the distillery. Now, they were in the streets and the docks, the bar and the attic room. Most of them were the same as they always been, but there were other rats. Those other rats were larger, with longer hair. And they were more aggressive. Once, a man ran into the bar trying to get away from a group of those rats. He said that they had killed his wife.

The Admiral seemed concerned by this plage. He did not have the panic that the common people seemed to have (she would never see genuine fear on his face), but it was clear in his face that he was worried. Once, he was alone at the bar well into the night, drinking. Cecelia had considered asking him about it, but decided not to.

Weeks went by, and the sickness became worse and worse. First the poor areas became desolate, then they emptied. The rats got into the sewers, and spread all over the city. The prosperous Rudshore District, where her father lived; the Estate District, where her mother worked; the Distillery District, where her old gang lived. They were all falling ill with the rat plague. It was as if Dunwall itself was infected.

All the City Watch’s efforts to contain it failed. Every day, Cecelia saw more patrols heading up and down the street. Sometimes, all of them would come back at the end of the day. Each night, officers filled the pub with sorrow and gloom. Once, a man grabbed Cecelia’s arm and begged her to flee the city.

“You are plain, and this city is eating the plain people. Leave. Find a farm in Tyvia or Morley. Stay away from the city, and stay away from anyone who is sick. This plague will spread soon enough.”

If only she had followed that advice.


End file.
